


Longing

by sea



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Awkward Flirting, Brooding, Dragon Age Kink Meme, F/M, Flirting, Frottage, Resolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 10:33:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3725524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sea/pseuds/sea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cullen can't stand to see Trevelyan flirting with other people, but he knows he has no claims to her. He just can't seem to get the words out. Sometimes actions speak louder than words. Unestablished relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Longing

**Author's Note:**

> DA!KINK MEME PROMPT: Cullen sees/overhears Inquisitor flirting with someone else consistently and gets upset/angry. Non established relationship.
> 
> \+ Cullen knows he has no right to be upset since him and Inquisitor aren't together (but were heavily flirting at some point in the past)  
> \+ LOTS OF UST  
> \+ Cullen intentionally interrupts flirting and causes awkward times.  
> \+ Moody!Cullen (and/or broody!Cullen).  
> \+ Inquisitor rightly calls out Cullen on his pissy behaviour.  
> \+ Angry kisses/serious makeout/dryhumping between Cullen and Trevelyan in a corner of the castle somewhere.  
> \+ dubcon is totally fine

He has no claims to her and, by no means, does she belong to him. Cullen repeats it over and over in his head, a mantra that he prays would stick. No matter what he does or how he tries, he cannot shake her from his thoughts. Long, sleepless nights he’s spent dreaming of her, taking himself in his hand when the ache became too much to ignore.

He tries to express his feelings for her, but really there are no words that would do them justice. She’s different and he finds that he can’t talk to her like he would a _normal_ person. All that transpires between them is awkward, uncomfortable silence. But she fills it with smiles and a quick quip, her kind attempt to make him feel more at ease. She always does it. It only serves to make him feel like more of a dolt. And she’s just radiant and lovely, the picture of effortless elegance in all meaning of the word. 

She was born to conquer the world. He’s just struggling to get along. And though things are better now, _he_ is better now, he still fights every day to keep himself afloat, to rid himself of his addiction, and to accept and protect those that he has sworn to. When all he really wants to do is protect her. Love her. Be with her.

Once or twice he’s almost kissed her. The moment was there, he leaned in, and then doubt reasserted itself. She just kind of laughed awkwardly and Cullen kicked himself internally over and over again. But he _had_ successfully told her she looked beautiful in her formal gown, though she’d only worn it at Josephine’s insistence. _The Inquisitor can_ not _be seen in leggings at the Inquisition’s first formal banquet!_ The faint rosy blush that crept onto her cheeks was reward enough for him, his stomach rolling at the thought of what else she might blush at.

Cullen sighs to himself, leaning back in his chair. The pile of work on his desk is never ending. As soon as he thinks he’s made some progress, a soldier will only come in and dump some more on his desk. He gives up for the day, nothing that can’t be taken care of tomorrow. He stands and stretches his legs, leaving his office for the war room.

They’ve got a special guest today, Hawke. Cullen tries not to notice the way he looks at Trevelyan, the way his eyes rake over her form when she bends to move pieces on the table, the too long glances between them. She reacts to his flattery in such a rhythmic manner that it makes Cullen bristle, even more so when she reaches out to touch Hawke’s arm as they laugh playfully.

Cullen ends the meeting as swiftly as he can, wanting to give her no more reason to be forced into contact with Hawke. He hopes this will keep them a safe distance from each other. He’s heard of Hawke’s exploits, seen them even, the former elven slave, the pirate, the mage that started the rebellion. It seemed to Cullen that Hawke couldn’t keep his hands to himself and the idea of Trevelyan ending up on that very long list of conquests makes his skin crawl. 

He slams the door open and tears out into the hall, causing a passing servant to scurry away like a mouse. He doesn’t get too far before she catches up to him, he’s forgotten how fast she is.

“Maker, Cullen, stop!” She grabs his arm but he jerks it from her, and he thinks he sees hurt flash in her eyes before it’s replaced by fire. “What the fuck was that?”

She’s angry. Why wouldn’t she be? He treated Hawke like a jerk, he is one as far as Cullen is concerned, but it’s true he should have been civil at the very least. It’s in his job description to at least _appear_ in control.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cullen replies in an indifferent tone, but he knows his face is red with anger and frustration.

“Of course you don’t.” She’s glares at him. If she could shoot fire from her eyes he’d surely be a pile of ash by now. 

All he wants to do is shove her up against the wall and give her a reason to be true only to him. Instead he turns his back to her.

“If there’s nothing else, I’m going to retire to my office. I’ve got a lot of work to do and it’s been a hectic day. Good evening, my lady.” He doesn’t turn around to see the expression on her face, the anger fading to something more akin to sorrow. 

—

After that they don’t see each other for a few days. She’s gone off to some dangerous place and left Cullen to pace his office until she returns, the fear bubbling in his stomach like sour milk.

She does return, though, and he breathes a sigh of relief when he receives the report. A smile spreads across his face. She’s back.

He has every intent of confessing his feeling to her. He shouldn’t have left things like they did after the war council with Hawke. He sets his work aside and heads for her quarters.

Cullen crosses the courtyard quickly, but there is a big commotion at the tavern, loud shouts, and the sounds of glass breaking. He can’t help but look in. If there are riots or a fight it would not look good and he should do what he can to stop it. As quick as he enters he realizes that it’s not a fight but a celebration.

And there she is. Trevelyan. Sitting on the bar with Iron Bull at her side, too close for Cullen’s tastes, his massive hand resting on her thigh.

“You should have seen the way Boss took that dragon down!” Iron Bull yells to the other patrons, visibly squeezing Trevelyan’s thigh. “It was fucking hot!”

Cullen feels the heat rising in his face. Suddenly a wave of regret washes over him. Why should Iron Bull be the one to witness Trevelyan slaying a dragon? Why should he be the one to accompany her and make sure she stays safe? He immensely wishes that he could go with her on her quests, that they would bond over slaying dragons and red templars and whatever else the world had to throw at them.

The tavern is quieter now. Everyone has gone back to their tables, but Trevelyan and Bull have not moved. Cullen sees them sharing a moment, their eyes locked as Bull runs his hand further up her thigh. Cullen can’t take it. He approaches them quickly.

“Inquisitor, I see that you’re…you’re back.” Cullen reaches for something to say, anything to say. 

Trevelyan lifts her eyes to meet him. “Yes…I am.”

Bull coughs but doesn’t move his hand. It’s uncomfortable. So uncomfortable.

“Sorry to pull you away from the celebration, but I’m afraid I have to talk to you. It’s quite important.” Cullen spits out an excuse to take Trevelyan far, far away from Bull. Important Inquisition business, of course, that’s always a good one.

Once they’ve left the tavern behind he begins to lead her to his office. How could she let Bull touch her like that? And Hawke? Didn’t they have something between them? Cullen thinks maybe he’s fooling himself, maybe he had misinterpreted things. After all, why would someone like her every truly care for someone like him? What did he have to offer her? He’s damaged goods.

“Is something wrong, Cullen?” She’s very quiet as she follows behind him. If he weren’t intensely concentrating on her he might not have even heard her.

“No. Yes. I - “ Before he can get another word out they are interrupted by Leliana.

“Oh good. Inquisitor, may I have a word? I have a rather…private matter to discuss with you.” Cullen shoots Leliana an annoyed look, but she waves him off and takes Trevelyan away.

He’s left alone. Again.

—

Leliana and the Inquisitor don’t return that evening. When they do return she doesn’t find him right away. The more time that passes the more angry he becomes. Does he really mean so little to her? He thought, at the very least, she considered him a friend. But she’s seemingly completely forgotten her earlier concerns about him.

He finds her with Sera in the gardens. Sera is so clearly entranced by Trevelyan that Cullen holds a moment before approaching them. Sera is eating up every word that falls from Trevelyan’s full, pouty lips, her eyes wide as she nods obediently. Cullen has never seen the elf stay quiet for so long nor be so agreeable. It would be a beautiful sight if he weren’t so infuriated. Without hesitation he charges over to them like an angry bronto.

“Cul-“ The Inquisitor begins to speak, but Cullen grabs her hand roughly and yanks her up. Before either Sera or she has time to respond to his display of dominance he’s whisked Trevelyan off to one of the unoccupied rooms off the gardens.

He releases her once they’re safely inside, though he probably slammed the door a little harder than necessary. It’s dark and dusty, a storage closet it seems. His eyes begin to adjust to the dark, a small crack of light through the door helps him to see the outline of her silhouette, the way her clothes cling to her form.

“What are you doing?!” She yells at him, raising her fist to him but he catches it before she manages to land a blow. Still holding her hand, he shoves her up against the wall, pinning her with his body. “Cullen, this isn’t funny.”

“I agree,” He growls, the vibration from his chest sends shivers down her spine as his hips press her harder into the cold stone. “There’s nothing funny about this at all.”

“I don’t understand, Cullen. W-what - “ The words die on her lips. Her confusion and anger are replaced with a flash of fear when he leans into her, face so close she can feel his breath coming out in warm, short puffs. 

He considers, for a moment, what he could possibly say to her, how to express his utter frustration. Words fail him, as they usually do, and he can think of nothing other than crashing his lips hard against hers.

She doesn’t react at first, she’s caught her off guard, his anger turning so quickly to lust. Little does she know it’s been there all along. It only takes seconds before she _does_ react, kissing him back with just as much fervor.

It’s not gentle, he wants to teach her a lesson, show her how much anguish she’s put him through. He bites down hard on her bottom lip, almost too hard, she cries out but she doesn’t pull away. Instead she rocks her hips against him, moaning when she feels how hard he is for her. In turn he soothes her swollen lip with a swipe of his tongue.

He leaves her mouth in favor of her neck, scraping his teeth along the skin just under her jaw, threatening to bite. Her breath hitches when he does, his teeth sinking into her flesh, marking her as his.

“Cullen…” She whimpers, her voice is hoarse, barely audible.

“What is it, _Lady Trevelyan_?” The way he says her name makes her shake against him.

“I n-need you.” She says, planting kisses all over his face and neck, any skin she can reach.

“Is that so?” His voice drips with cynicism. “What is it exactly that you need from me?”

She can’t help but think it’s wrong how cold and even his voice is. He’s going to make her say it, describe all of the things she wants him to do to her.

“I…” He rolls his hips against her before spreading her knees with his thigh and pressing up against her core. “Maker, Cullen.” 

He can feel the heat emanating from her, the moisture pooling in her leggings, soaking through. She grinds against his thigh, shamelessly trying to get any friction, desperate to relieve the ache between her legs. He pulls back his leg from her and she whimpers at the loss of contact. He growls again. “Tell me.”

“Damn it, Cullen! What do you want to hear?” Her voice echoes in the empty room. “That I lay awake at night thinking of you, forced to touch myself to relieve the tension? Sinking my fingers into my cunt over and over with eyes closed pretending that it’s you, _your_ thick cock stretching me and fucking me until I can’t think straight? Because I do. Almost every night. And it’s torture. So if you’re only going to toy with me please just let me go.”

All of Cullen’s muscles tighten, he’s frozen and the room is filled with silence, only the sound of their heavy breathing. He thinks if he doesn’t fuck her now he might die, his cock is so hard and full that he’s already on the brink of passing out.

He tears at her leggings, nearly ripping them as he shoves them down her legs along with her smalls. He steps inside the loop she’s made with her legs, trapped by her leggings at her ankles. He releases himself from his trousers, sighing in relief as his aching erection is freed from its confines.

Cullen runs his hand along her slit, she’s so slick, his fingers slide easily against her and she moans into him. He grabs her hips and lifts them to him, filling her with his cock in one swift motion. She’s so tight and wet, grips him in a way that it takes all of his will to stop himself from coming right then.

He thrusts into her with vigor, fucking her into the wall, reveling in the wet sounds her cunt makes when he slides so effortlessly in and out of her. She’s whimpering and shaking against him, her noises growing needier by the second, but he won’t give her her release yet. 

“Please. P-please.” She senses this in him.

He doesn’t respond, he changes his angle so that each thrust hits something delicious within her, something that causes her to cry out and rut against him as he continues to sink himself as deep as he possibly can within her.

He’s getting close, Maker, he’s been close since before he even started fucking her. his thrusts becoming uneven. She grinds against him so perfectly. He knows she’s trying to reach her own end, but it feels so good that he’s being pushed further and further to the edge.

The noises she is making are beautiful, indecipherable grunts and moans, almost-words that he can’t quite make out. He relents, moving one hand from her hip to her center, thumbing circles around her clit, she bucks even harder against him. One last swipe of pressure with his thumb and she comes with a loud moan, her vision swims and her walls contract around him. She feels so good, so full.

When she comes, he feels his orgasm approaching quickly, it laps at him like waves on the shore. His belly tightens, his legs shake, and as she comes down from her own climax he hears her whisper his name. He comes hard, so hard, filling her with his seed, thrusting deep inside her as he empties himself in spurts, groaning against her shoulder before biting down. For a moment they stay intwined, their breathing becoming regular again before he releases his hold on her, gently lowering her legs to the ground, but keeping her pinned against the wall for support.

When they can, they make themselves presentable. He sees a trickle of his seed dripping down her thigh before she pulls her leggings back up. He can’t help the smug half-smile that stretches over his face.

He moves to leave, but she grabs his hand. Her soft, warm fingers entangle with his and she squeezes gently. She’s not ready to leave yet, not ready to let this moment pass.

“Cullen,” She pauses, as if trying to work up the nerve to speak. He’s never seen her speechless before. “It was always you. _Always_.”

Cullen lifts her chin with his hand, leaning in to gently brush his lips against hers. When he speaks his voice is quiet and calm. “It has been and will always be you.”


End file.
